


Hypothermia

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [33]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Cold Weather, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race runs off in the middle of winter, some of his friends don't see the humor in it





	Hypothermia

**Author's Note:**

> this took FOREVER TO WRITE IM DYINGGGG

A frigid gust of wind slammed Race in the face, and slammed was really the only appropriate word for it, he’d almost stumbled backward and into the river. It wasn’t even frozen over yet, just cold, everything was just cold, even Race was just cold. Cold and tired, and sort of wishing he hadn’t snuck out of lodging just after dark in the middle of January. 

Hunching his shoulders and bracing himself against the bite in the air, Race started away from the riverbank. Again, he wasn’t thinking when he’d walked here at all, being near the water made it feel about ten degrees colder and he wasn’t exactly wrapped in wool. 

A carriage rumbled past when he reached the road, and Race groaned a bit to himself. It was about four blocks to lodging. The whole way here he’d practically ran, the air had actually felt nice then, tearing at his lungs like chips of ice. He’d needed that then, he really didn’t now. 

“Keep it moving, kid.”

Race turned his head and saw a man leaning in the doorway of a deli,  _ Lou’s _ actually, he’d been passing it everyday on his way to the bridge for god knows how long. Lou wasn’t his biggest fan. 

“And get to see less of your pretty face, Lou?” he called back, turning to walk backwards once he passed the doorway. “Never.”

Lou mumbled something under his breath in Spanish, and from what Race had heard from Spot cursing in his own Spanish, it wasn’t a compliment. 

When Race turned back around his face dropped, the wind hitting it again, and he rushed his steps. A part of him didn’t even want to go back, and if it was summer he might have just slept by the river instead of walking into lodging and facing Jack.

It might not even be that bad, he figured, sometimes when he bolted like this Jack went ballistic, and sometimes he just got quiet. Right now, quiet was the not bad option, he was too tired to process his disappointment. And hungry, he was awfully hungry, too. 

That was the part of the reason why he ran out, his head started swimming when he got this hungry sometimes, and everything had just been loud and too fast, and so  _ loud _ . So, he crawled out the fire escape and left, just for a second. He could claim needing some air, probably convince Elmer or Albert or something, but Jack would know. He always did. 

As he caught sight of lodging about half a block up, he started to warm his hands up, blowing into them and rubbing them together quickly. If he could get has hands warm he could try the fire escape, it was dark enough that he might luck out and crawl in after Jack had put everyone else to bed. 

Just as he got to the alley beside lodging though, the sound of voices and disorganized footsteps broke into his thoughts, and he slowed his pace, leaning against the alley wall near the corner. 

“Where the fuck is he, then?”

“I ain’t the one that lives here-”

“You know where he’s bound to go better than I do, you’se always the one dragging him back.”

Eyes widening, Race pressed himself against the wall. It was Jack and Spot from the sound of it. Why they were outside, he wasn’t sure, but it sure sounded like they were talking about him. 

“He’ll turn up, Jack.”

“It’s  _ cold  _ out there, and I know he ain’t got no secret apartment he’s been keepin’ from us, I told him he shouldn’t keep running out without tellin’ me.”

There was a pause then, and Race leaned forward to get a look into the alley, just barely. 

Jack was pacing in a circle in front of Spot, wringing his hands and mumbling quietly to himself. Spot was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He was oddly still. 

“He’ll come back,” Spot said quietly after a moment. “He ain’t stupid-”

Jack stopped in front of him, and Race could see a hint of actual fear in his eyes. “You don’t know him when he gets like this, he doesn’t think.”

At that point, Race really was ready to bolt. As awful as it sounded, guilt was building up in his chest and he couldn’t imagine facing Spot or Jack when they were scared for him like this. He took a step back actually, making to do just that, when a pigeon flew up, nearly hitting him in the face in the process. 

A sharp yelp escaped him, and before he could do anything else Jack and Spot were rounding the corner out of the alley. 

“Hey, who’s-”

Jack cut off after seeing Race, standing three or so feet in front of him and desperately shuffling back. Before Race could achieve that, Jack flew forward, giving Race what felt like, and might have been a hug at first, but what turned into a solid pin against the wall he’d been hiding next to. Spot was half a step behind him. 

“Where the  _ hell  _ did you go?” Jack asked, voice clipped. He had his forearm pressed against Race’s chest, and his face was six inches from Race’s own. “Do you wanna die, out there? It’s barely above zero and you bolt without tellin’ anybody?”

Race squirmed against Jack’s solid weight, feeling his shoulder blades bite against the brick, his fingers still weren’t working good. “I didn’t think-”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, you’se right about that.”

He was waiting for some explanation, Race knew from the way he wasn’t letting up on the pin. Spot, strangely, still hadn’t said a word. 

“I-I was just, just hungry, okay?” Race started, not meeting Jack’s eyes, which was difficult to do from six inches away. “And I didn’t feel good, and-and it was loud in there Jack, and so I just wanted to get some air or-or somethin’.”

He was struggling, his words coming out slowly and clumsily, and it didn’t feel to him like he was making all that much sense, either. But after trailing off and getting nothing back, he looked up and saw Jack’s head hanging down. The weight on his chest had loosened up. 

Jack let out a sigh, a cloud of frozen air leaving his mouth and floating up between them. “Yeah, yeah okay, I knows that, kid.”

This was the disappointed Jack, the one that didn’t really know what to do to help his little brother anymore. The guilt was coming back awful fast. 

Jack pulled back though, and raked a hand through his hair, moving off a step or so toward lodging so that Spot was in Race’s line of vision more than himself. They exchanged a look. 

“Come inside soon.”

Jack walked off then, his voice cutting through the cold air and Race might have bolted again had Spot not been standing there. He didn’t really know why Spot was standing there, still. 

There were a few seconds where neither of them said anything, and Race concentrated very hard on not being the one to break that silence. Every time he did, he seemed to mess something up. 

“Jack was scared,” Spot said finally. “Most of your boys, actually.”

Race shifted from foot to foot, feeling the cold again as he jammed his hands into his thin pockets. “I, uh, I shouldn’t’a left, like that.”

Spot rolled his eyes, and Race almost relaxed; he looked like himself for a second, like he was around Race. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he said, cocking his head a bit, “and yet every other week I got Kelly on my ass, lookin’ for ya.”

Nervously, Race let out a laugh, focusing the feeling of the ground rolling underneath his heels. “He’s gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Or someone else.”

Race quieted and bit his lip. He didn’t want to make eye contact but he pulled his gaze off the ground regardless. “I’m sorry, Spot-”

Spot shook his head, and for a second Race saw how  _ scared  _ he looked. He barely ever saw him like this. 

“Kids die in the cold all the time, Race,” he said shakily, “happened all the time when I was growin’ up, nobody sees it coming, they just fall asleep out there.”

Shocked, Race took a quick step forward so that he could grab Spot’s arms. Leaning down, he made eye contact with him and held. “Hey, I’m here, Spotty, I’se fine.”

Spot laughed bitterly and shook his head again. “You wouldn’t run off if you was.”

Race didn’t have an answer for that, and just stood there on the street, holding Spot. It was dark and freezing, nobody cared what they were doing, and it wasn’t much. 

“Can you come bunk with me?”

Spot looked up, frowning almost. “You ain’t got room-”

“Please,” Race rushed out, hands starting to shake again, he couldn’t see Spot like this, not because of him. “I got enough room, and you’re boys will be fine back there for a night.”

He waited as Spot looked at him, eyes searching Race’s face before he pulled back from his embrace and nodded. “Yeah, sure, Racer.”

Letting out a breath, Race felt an arm sling over his shoulder as the two of them started for the entrance to lodging, which was dark and quiet, for once. The cold shut it down like that. 

By the time they got to the door Race felt blood start rushing back into the place where Spot’s arm was laid over him, and he didn’t feel like bolting. He was still hungry and cold, and any number of other things, but he didn’t want to run away right then. Not with Spot right there. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope yall enjoyedddd, idek if this makes any sense but hmu if you liked it!!!! love yall!!!!


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